


Why Me?

by SilverFliesInBlueSugar



Series: Oscar / Ozpin Angst [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anxiety, F/M, Panic Attacks, Regret, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, poor Oscar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFliesInBlueSugar/pseuds/SilverFliesInBlueSugar
Summary: Oscar is tired of being everyone's punching bag, and tired of thinking that he might deserve it.





	Why Me?

He was running.

He didn't care that it was dark out. That the streets were sparse and the few people wandering them were staring at him.

He wished he were like them. Simply struck with wanderlust. Not... 

Not desperately trying to escape something he knew he was bound to.

There was no point running. This  
was stupid. He was being stupid. Where was he going? What was the point?

Why couldn't he stop running?

He felt warm streaks down his face. He was crying? He had barely even noticed. He had been entirely focussed on the crippling fear encompassing his entire body. He just needed to get away. There had been no other thought in his mind.

Jaune's face flashed before him.

He could still hear the yelling ringing in his ears.

How much it hurt to be shoved into the wall.

The accusations.

It reminded him of Qrow. Of Ozpin releasing his possession of his body and immediately becoming prey to a stinging ache in his neck. Ruby trying to reassure him and being quickly and easily shut down. Qrow shooting the tanned teen distasteful looks when he thought he wasn't looking.

Ozpin wasn't any kind of huntsman, but he wasn't an idiot.

No one wanted him.

And yes, most of it was by proxy. Because he was Ozpin. Or rather, because his body was Ozpin's current vessel.

But it still felt targeted. He still felt like it was... Personal in a way.

Maybe if he had been more careful. More helpful. Stronger. 

If he hadn't been born.

Maybe none of this would have happened. 

The thought shocked him like lightning. He froze. His breath seemed to halt, and his jaw clicked by how quickly he almost seemed to shut down.

Wasn't he just... Dragging everyone down? 

They seemed to find some retributive justice in hurting him in some way. Why? Hating Ozpin didn't mean that they had to hurt him, right???

His head hurt.

He fell to his knees next to a stall and curled up, pulling his knees up to his chest, leaning against the wood and stone and letting the chill seep into his bones.

But the more he seemed to calm the more anger curled up in his gut at the injustice of it all.

Something burned in him. He felt like his blood had to be bubbling. 

And without thinking he picked up a rock resting by his foot and SLICED.

...

A thick gash on his hand, spitting blood and outskirted with dirt. A now slightly bloody rock.

He began to hyperventilate, throwing it as hard as he could, taking dim satisfaction in hearing it rebound off something or other with a satisfying 'CLANG'.

He clutched the now smarting hand, wincing as it throbbed to some non existant rhythm, his hand feeling as if it were pulsing.

Why was he here? Why him? Why out of the billions of people in this world...

Did it have to be him?

He growled, and began to feel overheated again. His hands grew clammy and even in the intense cold of the outdoors he felt as though he was being burnt alive.

Almost on autopilot he began to claw at his neck, slipping into the throes of a panic attack.

...And then he was forcefully stopped. His hands just jerked to a standstill, and he froze up, shocked. His orange gloved hands (one now sporting a large bloodied tear) lowered from his throat to drop listlessly by his side. His eyes drooped. His voice spoke, but it was not truly him talking. "Oscar, you need to calm down."

'Oh, i see, so now you decide to come out?' he thought bitterly. 'Not when i needed you to in those times of confrontation - only to save your precious vessel from being damaged. I'm right, aren't i?'

He took bitter satisfaction in how his body winced, Ozpin's spirit seeming to recoil. There was a beat of hesitation before his fellow body's inhabitant spoke up again. "Oscar, you need to think rationally. I understand that you are lashing out and it is perfectly understandable - healthy, even; to an extent. But you need to calm down" Oscar felt his body looking down at the cut on his palm. "Shouldn't my aura have protected me from this..?" The tan boy mumbled, confused, finally given back some control of his body. 

Ozpin sighed, and Oscar felt the fellow prescence shake his head. "No. Self inflicted wounds tend not to go well with aura. Aura protects you from danger - if you're inflicting damage apon yourself, then how is your aura supposed to register that this is something it is meant to prevent? After all, if you're doing it then it can't be dangerous, right?"

Oscar scoffed. "That's... Dumb"

"It's just how it is, I'm afraid" Ozpin quietly agreed. "In one of my earlier lives i found this information out the hard way"

Oscar recoiled at this information, shocked, but before he could respond he heard hurried footsteps.

"Oscar? Oscarrrr!"

Ruby.

Was she looking for him?

Irrational panic seeped over him and he shuffled back. There didn't seem to be accompanying footsteps alongside her own so with any good luck she had come alone, but even just her was not someone he wanted to talk to right now.

Unfortunately Ruby seemed to hear him, and the footsteps drew closer, until...

"...Oscar?"

She was before him.

Even in his state of bewildered misery and her expression of sadness and fading panic, she still looked angelic.

He quickly shook away the thoughts.

"Umm..hi Ruby" he said hesitantly. She bit her lip. "......Hi Oscar. Are you okay?"

He shook his head but didn't elaborate, clutching his injured hand tighter. She seemed to notice this and her eyes widened at the red quickly spreading across the part of his shirt he held his hand to, like rapidly expanding ripples on a pond's surface.

She kneeled down by him and extracted his hand, and he snapped his eyes shut as she inhaled sharply. He honestly just felt ashamed. For what specifically, he couldn't say. Many things. 

She tore a small section from his shirt and wrapped it around the gash, before pulling him to his feet, rising along with him. 

"Erm... We should all talk back at the house, i think. I'm really sorry.."

He faked a smile. "It's okay"

It wasn't.

And he didn't know if it would ever be again.


End file.
